


desperation force my hand

by jaemarked



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Fluff, Found Family, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nct dream ensemble - Freeform, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 10:08:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30020154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaemarked/pseuds/jaemarked
Summary: When Mark wakes up, the Heroes’ Alliance has been disbanded, and Johnny has become the most powerful supervillain the world has ever seen. It’s up to Mark to stop him.There’s just one problem. The whole world thinks he’s dead.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 6
Kudos: 83





	desperation force my hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [baridalive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baridalive/gifts).



> hello, long time no see! so this fic has been in the making for quite a while, and i really love it with all my heart, so i'm hoping you will love it too. feel free to leave your thoughts and predictions in the comments if you enjoy what you're reading. i'm going to do my best to update regularly as these are shorter chapters than my other works. if you are currently reading my other chaptered works (twaac and the final score) those will be updated as soon as i finish the next chapter.
> 
> this fic is dedicated to my lovely friend [lil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baridalive/pseuds/baridalive)  
> who has been very supportive of all my fics but my johnmarks in particular. i hope this story is to your liking and thank you for always encouraging me.

When Mark comes to, he’s surrounded by white.

The walls and ceiling are unnervingly spotless, gleaming in the harsh fluorescent lights that hurt Mark’s eyes. He takes a moment to adjust, his whole body aching. It feels like he’s trapped in fog, and it takes some time for his limbs to respond to his brain. Finally, he manages to push himself up long enough to properly take in his surroundings, blinking rapidly as his eyes focus.

He’s in a hospital room, that much is certain. He’s lying on a bed, and there’s an IV drip attached to his arm. He moves the blanket covering his legs, and finds they are paler and thinner than he remembers them being. His hand flies to his stomach, and he can feel his ribs poking out through his thin hospital gown.

So he’s been out for a while, he guesses.

Mark surveys the room carefully and realizes that it’s familiar. He’s in the medical ward of the Alliance’s HQ. He’s been here countless times, usually from injuries during missions or training. He’s never been in bed for more than a couple days, though. Something must have happened that took him out of commission for a while. 

He tries to think back, but a sharp, searing pain in the back of his head makes him wince, and he shakes his head, leaving it alone for now. Almost as quickly as it came, the pain vanishes, leaving him with his next order of business.

Making it to the bathroom. 

Mark pulls out the IV from his arm, watches the small wound close up from his accelerated healing, and carefully lowers his feet to the ground. The floor is freezing, but he can’t find any slippers in the room. Actually, there’s nothing in the room except for unoccupied chairs and a nightstand left bare, devoid of any gifts or get well soon cards. 

It’s not that he expects those things, it’s just surprising that there aren’t any. The one time he stayed in the infirmary for more than one night, the nurses had to ban his friends from bringing him snacks and cards to help him cope with his leg being broken in three places. 

Now, none of his bones are broken, so he manages to get up off the bed after another minute. His legs are weak and shaky, but he stays upright, so he makes his way over to the bathroom. It occurs to him while he’s washing his hands that he could have called a nurse to help him, but he’s always been independent. And besides, it would be kind of embarrassing if the youngest member of the Heroes’ Alliance couldn’t make it to the bathroom on his own.

He runs out of energy halfway to his bed, but he gets back under the covers. It’s weirdly silent in the medical ward, save for the sound of his heavy breathing. He’s supposed to have super strength, but he doesn’t feel very strong right now. Mark reaches for the buttons on his bed that allow him to sit upright, then presses the call button.

He waits a few minutes, then presses it again. He doesn’t want to rush whoever might be taking care of him, but he doesn’t know how long he’s been out and he can’t remember what happened before that, and the stress is taking a toll on his system. The migraine comes back full-force, and he’s starving. Actually, now that he thinks about it, he’s surprised he had only woken up with an IV in him. No feeding tube, breathing tube, or catheter. And sure, he feels gross, but he definitely doesn’t feel like he’s shit himself. So surely, he couldn’t have been out for too long.

He reaches for the IV bag and reads the label on the back, but he doesn’t understand any of it, so he puts it back and presses the call button again, anxiety bubbling in his stomach. Someone should have come by now. 

The Alliance headquarters has a thousand staff members alone, from cleaning service to medics to cooks. Nurses, teachers, scientists — _superheroes._ So where is everyone? Why is it so quiet? 

He tries to shout, but his throat is too parched, and he barely makes a sound, Sighing, he falls back against his pillow and waits. He doesn’t remember drifting off, but a hissing sound makes him open his eyes as the door to his room slides open and reveals a familiar figure. Relief rushes through his chest when he sees the orange cape and half mask painted to look like a fox.

“Ninetails,” Mark breathes. Ninetails is a neutral super. He isn’t part of the Alliance, but he isn’t in the rebel group either. Mark rarely sees him around, but he’s fought alongside him a couple of times when they had the same goal. 

“Ace Lion,” Ninetails answers coolly, his short stature doing nothing to take away from his intimidating aura, “I’m glad to see you’re alive.”

“How long was I out for?” Mark asks, pulling the covers up to hide his exposed body. He feels vulnerable without his super suit, but he figures he should get the important questions out of the way before asking Ninetails where his clothes are.

“Not long,” Ninetails replies, crossing the room to sit in one of the plastic chairs. It can’t be comfortable, but Ninetails is the picture of grace as he crosses his slim legs and surveys Mark with a blank stare. “How much do you remember?”

“I remember the beginning of the attack.” He had been on the roof of HQ when the initial attack happened, bombs blowing holes into the walls that surrounded the city of Acrima. It was instigated by a group of rebel supers calling themselves the New Wave. The supposed liberation of mankind. He remembers the sound of the sirens blaring, and he remembers the evacuation announcement, but everything else is a blur. “But I don’t remember what happened to me.”

“Well, I wasn’t here, so I can’t say for certain,” Ninetails tells him, “but the Towers were activated.”

Mark just stares at him. The Towers of Acrima are a last resort defence system. They sit on the outside of the city, dividing the wall into five segments. When activated, they form a force field around the entire city and using thermal detection, fry everyone still inside with bolts of lightning. 

“Try to think back,” Ninetails urges. “What do you remember?”

“I was helping the citizens evacuate,” Mark says, frowning hard. His head pounds at his temples, but he closes his eyes and forces himself to think past the pain. “I received orders from HQ to check for anyone remaining when I was ambushed in the center of the city by the New Wave.”

“How many?” Ninetails demands.

“There were four of them,” Mark recalls. He can picture it now, but only just barely. He can’t see faces but he can see figures. They were dressed in all blue, and their masks had been white. “I was… was I in the city when the Towers…”

“Yes,” Ninetails says solemnly. “You were.”

“How… how did I survive?”

“From what I can tell, you were only struck once before the Towers were destroyed. I wasn’t in the city when it happened, so I can’t say for certain, but if you had been hit more than once—“

“I would have been dead,” Mark finishes. “But the Towers? How were they destroyed?” They’re supposed to be indestructible. 

Ninetails hesitates, then seems to make up his mind. “They were destroyed by Stormfire.” 

“You’re lying,” Mark says immediately. There’s no way it was Stormfire. There’s no way it was Johnny. His best friend, the superhero who’s been at his side since the day he joined the alliance. 

He would never.

“Why would I lie?” Ninetails asks, and he sounds so exhausted and matter-of-fact that Mark can’t even argue with him. “It was him. He blew up the Towers in one move.”

“But why?” Mark can’t comprehend it. Johnny, his Johnny, the most gentle giant he’s ever met. Easygoing Johnny who could never hurt a fly, somehow managing to destroy the five Towers of Acrima in a single blow? 

“Because he watched you fall,” Ninetails replies, eyes flashing behind the mask. “The director of the Alliance activated the Towers while you were inside, and you were struck by lightning. Your heart stopped, and he thought you had died.”

Oh, _Johnny._

“How do you know this?”

“Who do you think pulled you out of the rubble?” Ninetails asks, but continues before Mark can say a word. “I came after the force field was disabled. I found you, and brought you here. You were in the restoration chamber until a couple hours ago.”

The restoration chamber — a healing pod created for superheroes to restore their bodies. Mark has no idea how it works, but he’s grateful for Ninetails, because he definitely would have died if he hadn’t gotten there in time. 

“Thanks for saving me,” Mark says.

“It’s not a problem.” If Mark didn’t know any better, he’d think Ninetails sounded flustered. “But… Stormfire destroying the Towers is considered an act of terrorism in the eyes of the UN. He’s wanted as an enemy of the state now.”

“What?” Mark startles, fisting the covers tightly as he turns wide eyes on Ninetails. “No, that’s — that’s not fair.”

“I’m sorry,” he hears Ninetails say, but it sounds like he’s underwater, blood rushing past Mark’s ears like waves. His head is spinning, trying to make sense of it all. 

“So, h-he… he left the Alliance?” Mark asks, shaking under the covers. He draws them around him even though he knows it’s not the cold that’s making him tremble.

“Ace.” Ninetails looks mournful behind the mask. “There is no more Alliance.” 

Mark cries.

He’s shocked when tears start spilling down his cheeks, because he never cries, but he mourns for everything he’s lost. The Alliance has disbanded, his best friend is a wanted criminal, and everyone thinks he’s dead.

He could try and get back out there, try to tell everyone that Ace Lion is alive, but he’d probably be named an imposter. The one person who knew his identity beneath his mask was gone.

His heart aches when he remembers Johnny’s smile. His voice, his laugh. Will he ever see him again? 

To his surprise, Ninetails takes off his cape and boots, then reaches up and pulls his mask off. His face is pretty and angular, with sharp cheekbones and a pointed nose, fox-like eyes and delicate brows. He sits on the bed next to Mark and pulls him in for a hug.

It should be weird, because they’re hardly close. In fact, this is the first time Mark has seen Ninetails without his mask. But Mark has no one else to turn to for comfort, so he buries his face in Ninetails’ shoulder and mourns.

“My name is Renjun,” Ninetails tells him, and Mark realizes he’s trying to calm him down. It works, and Mark is able to focus on his words enough to stop crying. “I’m twenty. I developed my powers when I was sixteen. I never had any interest in becoming a superhero, but I try to help out when I can.”

“I’m Mark,” Mark says with a sniffle, his voice watery but steady, “it’s nice to meet you.”

Renjun laughs, and it’s enough to make Mark smile. “We should get you something to eat. You’re too skinny.”

“I thought I had woken up from a coma,” Mark tells him, laughing a little at himself. “I lost so much weight.”

“Dying does that to you,” Renjun replies.

“I wasn’t dead,” Mark says defensively, then he pauses. “Was I?”

Renjun shrugs. “All I know is you weren’t breathing when I brought you here.” 

“Can people come back from the dead, though?”

“You tell me,” Renjun replies. Mark decides he doesn’t want to think about it anymore, so he pulls away from Renjun and lowers his feet to the floor. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah,” Mark says, gritting his teeth determinedly as he places one foot in front of the other until he’s made it to the door. “Is there anyone else around?”

“No,” Renjun says from behind him. The door hisses and slides open. “The whole place has been abandoned.” 

It’s slow, getting down the hall to the kitchen. Mark feels even more exhausted now that he’s cried his eyes out, but he refuses any help from Renjun, who walks diligently behind him. He doesn’t deserve Renjun’s patience nor his kindness, but he’s grateful for them both. 

“It’s so… dead,” Mark says quietly, “I’m not used to seeing it so empty.” 

“I’ve never been inside before yesterday, so I don’t know what it was like before,” Renjun says, “but even I feel like we’re walking in a skeleton.” 

Mark’s home, reduced to bare bones. He sees ghosts of the people he had called his family out of the corner of his eye, but when he turns to look, there’s no one there. He feels like crying all over again. What the hell is he supposed to do now? 

“I’ll make you something to eat,” Renjun says, sitting Mark down at the table. He navigates the kitchen like he owns the place. It’s funny because Mark has lived here since he was sixteen, but he’s never cooked for himself. There were always chefs that made food for the supers. Now, the kitchen has never looked so dull and empty.

When he was younger, he and Johnny used to sit at this very table, the kitchen full of life and bustling around them as they hid from their trainer. Giovanni and Claire were the two head chefs then, and they always doted on him, sneaking him a taste of every dish they made.

He remembers Johnny laughing as Mark happily ate a bowl of a pasta recipe Giovanni was trying to perfect, sauce on the tip of his nose from scarfing it down.

 _“What?”_ He had asked, and Johnny shook his head, still laughing.

_“You make the world fall in love with you, Mark Lee.”_

And now the whole world thinks he’s dead. It’s funny how that works. 

_What would Johnny do?_ He thought to himself, frowning at the metal surface of the table. _If our roles were reversed, what would he do?_

The answer comes to him instantly, and it’s so simple he wonders why he didn’t think of it before. _He’d come find me._

Abruptly, Mark stands up, his chair screeching against the tiles. Renjun turns around from the stove, looking startled.

“I need to go. I need to find Johnny.” 

Renjun points a ladle at him threateningly. “No, what you _need_ to do is sit down and eat a fucking meal. Have you forgotten that you can’t _walk?_ Not to mention you have _no idea_ where this Johnny person is. How do you plan to look for him?”

Mark swallows harshly. “I’ll think of something.”

“You need to _rest,_ ” Renjun stresses, punctuating his sentence by slamming a bottle of some kind of spice against the counter. “Look, I’ll help you look for your Johnny. But _after_ you’ve recovered. I saved your life, so quit trying to die again so soon.” 

“Fine,” Mark whispers, and he sits back down with his arms crossed, feeling sullen and ashamed. Renjun is right — Mark has no idea where Johnny is. If he’s even alive, or if he was killed by the New Wave, or if he’s already been captured and put in jail. But who would go after him, if the Alliance has been disbanded? Where are the other heroes?

Renjun serves him broth in a bowl, red with spices and packed with pork and veggies. It tastes good, and Mark realizes how hungry he is when he finishes the entire bowl. Renjun silently refills his bowl before settling down across the table from him with his own food. 

“We’ll have to leave soon,” Renjun says, getting up to pour Mark a glass of water. He doesn’t even seem to realize that he’s doing it, like it’s habitual for him to take care of Mark as if they’ve known each other for years. 

Or maybe it’s because Mark still can’t walk. It’s a foreign feeling, being almost helpless. Mark’s accelerated healing and super strength has ensured he’s never been off his feet for more than a day, and now he can barely stand without feeling weak and dizzy. He didn’t think he’d be able to get struck by lightning and walk it off, but he never imagined he would be affected this badly.

“There’s almost no food left,” Renjun continues, and Mark manages to tune in just in time to catch the tail end of his complaint. 

Mark frowns. “No food? Is it, like, spoiled or something?”

Renjun shakes his head. “No, it’s just… everything’s empty. The fridge and freezer are huge but the shelves are, like, bare.”

“That’s weird,” Mark says, furrowing his brows.

“What do you mean?” Renjun asks, finishing the last of his soup. With his eyes watering and his lips swollen red with spice, he doesn’t look so intimidating anymore.

“It’s just that… there are about a thousand staff members. Or, at least, there were. And the kitchens are supposed to be stocked enough to feed them all. It’s only been about a day since the evacuation, so… how is there no food?” 

“How often do supply trucks come in?” Renjun questions. “Maybe there was no delivery.”

“I guess,” Mark says doubtfully, but he forgets about it as he gathers up the dishes from their meal.

“Let me wash them,” Renjun offers, “you still need to take it easy.”

“I’m fine,” Mark assures him, “the food helped a lot. I think I’ve gotten all my energy back.”

“Okay, but you should still be careful.” He smiles when he gets up, bringing everything to the sink. He was scared, when he first woke up, that he had been left all alone, but he has Renjun for now, at least. That’s enough for now. It has to be.Mark washes the dishes and leaves them in the rack to dry, wiping his hands on a towel. 

It almost seems normal, and the contrast between today and yesterday is jarring. It’s strange that his death, real or not, is so peaceful. 

“You need more rest,” Renjun says, standing from the table as well. “I couldn’t get into the apartments, so I’ve just been sleeping in the lounge.”

Mark shakes his head. “Yeah, the elevator and all the floors are password protected. You could stay in mine, I have two bedrooms.”

“Sounds good,” Renjun responds. “I imagine the power to this place will be getting shut off soon. Where do you plan to go after this?”

Mark freezes. He hasn’t thought of that. He doesn’t have anywhere to go. He was supposed to spend the rest of his life living at HQ, just like the other supers. He doesn’t have a Plan B.

He feels a gentle hand on his shoulder, and when he turns around he meets Renjun’s eyes, soft with sympathy. “You could come with me.” 

“Where?” Mark’s voice cracks, and he flinches. He’s already broken down in front of Renjun once. He used to be part of the strongest superhero organization in the world. Now he’s alone. And pathetic. 

“We have a place in Sinnaha,” Renjun offers, “It’s not big, but it’s home, and more importantly, it’s safe.” 

“I guess I don’t really have a choice,” Mark says with a wry smile. Then it dawned on him. “Wait, who’s we?”

“Meet the dream team,” Renjun announces as he throws open the door to a small house dramatically. Mark peers inside — the first room is empty. Renjun’s cheeks turn red. “Damn it, I _told_ them to wait in the living room!” He huffs adorably, like an angry kitten, before turning to Mark. “Well, come in. Take your shoes off and I’ll give you the tour, not that there’s much to see. Sorry it’s a little cluttered.”

“It’s perfect,” Mark says quietly. Sinnaha is the neighbouring city to Acrima, though not as big. There’s certainly no military defence system, nor is there an organization of superheroes living in the heart. He hadn’t known that Renjun lived in Sinnaha, but it makes sense as to why he wasn’t in Acrima at the time of the attack. 

He knows Renjun is worried about him — he’d been too quiet during the twenty minute car ride and quieter still when they entered the walls of Sinnaha. The pastel coloured buildings had been so unlike the skyscrapers of Acrima. It didn’t feel anything like home. 

But that’s not why Mark is distressed. Before they had left HQ, Mark had packed up all of his important belongings in one bag. He had never been materialistic, always caring more about the people in his life over anything else. Besides clothes, his old phone, and some pictures of him and Johnny, he had nothing else. 

It had been Renjun’s idea to go into Johnny’s apartment. He suggested looking for some clues, anything that could hint to Johnny’s whereabouts. But when Mark keyed in the passcode to Johnny’s apartment (0802, Mark’s birthday), the door opened to reveal an empty apartment.

Not vacant, but empty.

Devoid of everything but the furniture the apartment had come with. 

It didn’t make any sense. From the initial attack to Mark getting struck down by the Towers, maybe thirty minutes had passed, tops. Which meant Johnny had packed and moved his things long before that. 

When had he done it? How long had he been planning to leave? He hadn’t said a word to Mark. Was he even planning to say goodbye? 

_Of course he was_ , Mark tries to convince himself. _Johnny’s not that kind of person._

He doesn’t know what kind of person Johnny is anymore. 

“Do you need help with your shoes?” Renjun’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts, and he realizes that he’s been staring blankly at his shoes for at least a minute now. His cheeks burn as he bends down to untie his laces, carefully tugging them off. He had changed out of his hospital gown into clothes from his apartment, but he honestly feels weird without his super suit, which had apparently been mostly charred by the Towers’ lightning. 

A shriek catches him off guard, and he’s dropping into a defensive stance before he can even think about it, regretting taking off his shoes. Renjun doesn’t so much as flinch, and seconds later two boys thunder down the steps from the second floor. One of them has pink hair.

“I’m gonna kill you!” Pink hair shouts, and the other boy giggles, jumping down the rest of the stairs and nearly crashing straight into Mark. 

“Oh, hello,” the boy in front of him says.

“Donghyuck, Jaemin, can’t you two behave for, like, thirty seconds, please? You’re embarrassing me,” Renjun says from behind Mark, sounding exasperated. 

“It’s not my fault Donghyuck froze my underwear in a block of ice,” the other boy grumbles, but he comes down the stairs quietly and stands next to the one Renjun called Donghyuck, his eyebrows raised as he surveys Mark coolly.

“Who’s this?”

Renjun sighs. “You have no tact. Jaemin, Donghyuck, this is Ace Lion. Ace Lion, you might know these guys as Absolute Zero and Wolfsbane.”

“ _You’re_ Ace Lion?!” Jaemin leans in until Mark has to go cross-eyed to stare back at him, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. Every alarm in Mark’s body is ringing, telling him to run, but he couldn’t figure out why. Jaemin actually looks very nice and non-threatening, especially with the pink hair, but he smells dangerous. Mark takes a step back, and then another, until he bumps into Renjun who quickly reaches to steady him.

“Back _off,_ Jaemin!” Renjun reprimands, and Jaemin holds his hands up with a grin, stepping back until he’s standing next to Donghyuck again. “You guys are embarrassing me.”

“Renjun is a big fan,” Donghyuck explains, and Mark barely has time to blink before Renjun lets out a strangled scream and flying leaps at Donghyuck, sending them both crashing to the ground. Jaemin easily sidesteps them, holding out a hand for Mark to shake.

“Ignore them. I’m Jaemin, it’s nice to meet you. You’re much hotter than I expected.”

Mark feels his face burn. “Um… I’m Mark.”

“So what’s your story? Aren’t you supposed to be running around with the Alliance right now?” Jaemin asks. There’s a shriek from the floor, and Renjun shoves Donghyuck into a table. An expensive looking vase teeters precariously. Mark takes another step back. 

“The Alliance is gone,” Mark replies softly, clearing his throat when his words came out choked. “Renjun saved me from an untimely death. I had nowhere else to go, so he brought me here.”

“Ah, makes sense,” Jaemin says with a sage nod, “Renjun’s always picking up strays these days.”

“How many of you _are there?_ ” Mark asks incredulously. The house seems smaller than his apartment back at HQ.

“Including you? Seven,” Jaemin answers, grin wide and slightly feral. Mark pales. “It’s a little cramped, but it’s home. I’ll show you to your room. You’ll be sharing with Chenle. He’s cool, he’s, like, a technological genius.”

“Thank you,” Mark says quietly. Jaemin takes him up the stairs, where a small hallway holds four rooms. They go to the one at the end of the hall, and Mark realizes it’s across from the bathroom. The door is white and covered in glittery star stickers. Jaemin taps out a rhythm on the door and a quiet voice calls for them to enter.

“Chenle, this is Mark, he’s gonna be your new roommate.”

Mark is distracted by how _cramped_ the room is. It’s not messy by any means, but two beds and a desk that stretches across one wall takes up most of the room. The desk holds two monitors, a glowing keyboard, and a laptop, plus some other stuff that Mark can’t really identify. In the chair in front of the desk sits a teenager with dark hair and ghostly pale skin. He has a pair of giant headphones around his neck, and he lights up when Jaemin pushes Mark through the door.

“Hey! Nice to meet you, I’m Chenle.”

“Just Chenle?” Mark asks, and Chenle pouts at him.

“Not really a super yet, I don’t have a mask or suit. I’m more of a behind the scenes kind of guy.” He stands from the chair, and he is alarmingly taller than he appeared sitting down. “Let me help you get settled. I think I have an extra bed set in the closet.”

Chenle takes Mark’s bag from him and dumps it on the spare mattress before walking over to the closet. It’s large, and when he opens the door it’s luckily half empty, which means Mark has enough space for his things. Sure enough, he pulls down a bed set still in its bag and tosses it to Mark, who unzips the plastic and removes the sheet first. The mattress already had a cover on it, but he still puts down the fitted sheet and uses the clips to hold it in place. Chenle comes over to help, and soon enough Mark has a proper bed to sleep in.

“Awesome, that was much faster with two people!” Chenle beams. “Okay, I’ll show you around the rest of the house and then you can unpack. Or do you want to unpack first? Oh, are you hungry? We can have lunch first, and _then_ we can do everything else. Wait, you’re probably tired, maybe you should take a nap or something. I swear I can be quiet!”

Chenle talks so fast it makes Mark’s head spin, but in a way, it’s comforting. Mark doesn’t feel like being left alone with his thoughts right now. 

“A tour sounds good,” Mark says with a smile, cutting off Chenle before he can ramble further. Chenle grins at him and hops off his chair, sending it careening into the desk. He doesn’t seem to care about any potential damage to his monitors before he’s yanking the door open and motioning for Mark to follow him.

“So that’s the bathroom, we have two but sometimes the hot water up here isn’t the greatest so if you want a nice shower you’ll have to use the bathroom downstairs. But I wouldn’t recommend showering in the mornings because that’s when Renjun uses it and he gets grumpy when people are in the shower when he needs it. Everyone else mostly just showers at night. I just use the upstairs bathroom because I don’t mind the cold,” Chenle says all in one breath.

“That’s Jaemin, Renjun, and Donghyuck’s room, and then across from it is Jeno and Jisung’s room. Jisung and I used to share a room but then he got annoyed because the light from my monitors was too bright for him to sleep, I hope that’s not a problem for you.” He has the decency to look sheepish, but Mark just shakes his head. He’s never had a problem falling asleep anywhere — being a superhero often meant waking at odd hours to take down criminals and supervillains, so Mark is used to taking all the sleep he could get.

Chenle takes him down the stairs, stopping to explain every picture that’s hanging in frames on the wall. He points out Jeno and Jisung, whom Mark hasn’t met. There are also pictures of Chenle’s parents. Mark doesn’t ask about the others; he doesn’t even like talking about his own parents, it would be weird to ask about people he barely knows. 

“You’ve seen the living room already,” Chenle says, leading him through the living room where Renjun and Donghyuck are sitting together on the couch, curled up under a blanket as if they hadn’t been at each other's throats ten minutes ago. 

“Hey,” Donghyuck says. Mark nods back in greeting. Renjun doesn’t even look up from the book he’s reading. 

“We have tons of gaming consoles,” Chenle says eagerly, gesturing to the cabinet beneath the flat screen. “Do you play?”

He looks so eager that Mark has a hard time telling the truth. “Um, not really.” He watches the light fade from Chenle’s eyes and panics. “But I could learn!”

“Really?” Chenle bounces up and down with a grin on his face. “Awesome! I can totally teach you. You won’t be able to beat me or Donghyuckie but maybe you can beat Jisung if you try hard enough.”

“You’ll never beat me,” Donghyuck says from the couch. Mark has no idea what to say to that. It doesn’t sound like Donghyuck is talking about video games. Chenle resolutely ignores him, dragging Mark into the tiny kitchen. 

“So through that door is the backyard and the snacks are in this pantry,” Chenle says, pulling open a cupboard with a flourish. Mark raises an eyebrow at the chips, cookies, and candy crammed onto the shelves, but doesn’t say anything. “We go grocery shopping once a week. And by we I mean Jaemin and Donghyuck go. Sometimes Jisung does if they need someone to do the heavy lifting. And the other bathroom’s down that little hallway. There’s also, like, a closet that has the broom and vacuum. We have a schedule to split the chores up. Can you do laundry? I _hate_ doing laundry.”

“Sure,” Mark says, “I can totally do laundry.” He hasn’t done his laundry in, like, five years because there were staff that washed his clothes at HQ, but how hard could it be? He probably remembers all the steps. 

“Then you’ll fit in just fine,” Chenle says, and the force of his smile is so brilliant that Mark has to smile back. “Do you wanna unpack? Or do you wanna help make lunch?”

“Help me make lunch,” Jaemin says as he walks into the kitchen. “I could really use a hand.”

“I’m not a very good cook,” Mark confesses. “At HQ, we had people cook for us, so I never learned.”

Jaemin beams. “That’s okay, I can teach you! Hey, Chenle, don’t you dare try to sneak away. It’s your turn to help cook and set the table.”

Chenle pauses in the doorway and quickly spins on his heel, a shit-eating grin on his face. “What? I wasn’t sneaking away, I was just… okay, yeah, I was sneaking away.”

Jaemin crosses his arms and glares. Chenle gives up and comes back into the kitchen with a pout on his face, yanking open the fridge sullenly and pulling out ingredients. Soon enough, Jaemin has Mark washing the vegetables for stir-fry while he prepares chicken on the other side of the counter. Chenle takes ten minutes to cook rice because he keeps getting distracted. Renjun and Donghyuck come in to steal bites of bell pepper until Jaemin chases them out, wielding a spatula like a sword. 

It’s chaotic, but it’s fun. The most fun Mark’s had in awhile. He feels a little more at ease, the tightness in his chest dissipating as he listens to the laughter of his new housemates. He wants to hold onto the emotions he’s feeling. Being sad won’t help him get to Johnny. He can’t let himself be overcome by his grief.

“We’re home!” Someone yells from the next room over. Two oddly familiar boys crash in through the doorway, bags of groceries in their arms. 

“Oh, hello,” the taller one says when he catches sight of Mark. “You the guy who got struck by the Towers?”

“Jisung, don’t be so insensitive!” The other boy hisses. _Oh, wait, these are the guys from the photos. Jeno and Jisung._ “Ignore him. I’m Jeno, and this is Jisung. Welcome to our humble abode.”

“I’m Mark.” 

“Here, let me take those,” Jaemin says, grabbing the bags from their arms. Mark moves to help, but Chenle is already beating him to it. The way they move is so interesting — like they’re completely synced. It’s as if they can anticipate each other’s moves and react accordingly. 

“Smells good,” Jisung says, wandering over to the stove. 

“Do you wanna try?” Jaemin abandons the groceries in favour of scooping some veggies from the pan with chopsticks, holding them out for Jisung to taste. The action reminds him a lot of Johnny, and how he would always force feed Mark before missions to keep his energy high.

He goes over to the fridge to help Chenle put the rest of the food away, and ducks his head when he receives a grateful smile in return. Something warm settles in his chest when he realizes how much the others are attempting to make him feel comfortable. 

“Go wash up,” Jaemin says to Jeno and Jisung. Renjun wanders into the kitchen to help Chenle set the table while Mark watches, taking note of where the dishes and cutlery are stored. Donghyuck comes in and sits at the table next to Mark, immediately commandeering the rice pot and scooping out portions for everyone’s plate. Jaemin brings over the stir fry and leaves it on a silicone mat in the center of the table while Chenle pours everyone a glass of water. Jeno and Jisung return just as everyone else sits down, and they dig in together.

“Thank you for the food,” Mark says halfway through the meal. “I’ll look for a job as soon as possible in order to repay your kindness.”

Chenle gives him a quizzical look from across the table. “Huh? You can’t get a job. Aren’t you supposed to be looking for your friend?”

Mark shoots a glance at Renjun who gives him a sheepish smile. “I mean… I don’t even know where to start.”

“I do,” Donghyuck says loudly, shoving his phone into Mark’s face. It’s a recording from a news broadcast, and when he presses play everyone shoved into his space to watch.

“...superhero Ace Lion died while evacuating citizens—“ it cut to footage of Mark getting struck by the lightning, and he quickly shut his eyes before he could see the rest. “—and the Towers of Acrima were destroyed in what the federal government has classified as as an act of terrorism by Johnny Suh, previously known to the world as Stormfire.”

“God,” Mark whispers, feeling hollow. He feels someone pat his shoulder, but his attention is back on the broadcast. 

“Johnny Suh was spotted earlier today with members of the New Wave—”

“ _No._ ” He shoves the phone back into Donghyuck’s hands and buries his face in his palms, forcing back the tears that threatened to leak from his eyes. He doesn’t understand. It feels like his entire world is falling apart and he can’t do anything but watch as the ground crumbles beneath him. He is distantly aware of his new friends calling his name, but he can barely hear over the sound of his own blood rushing through his ears. _Why?_

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Renjun says hurriedly, and Mark realizes belatedly that he’s shaking. He gets wrapped into a hug, and judging by the shirt he can see, it’s Chenle clinging onto him. Suddenly the entire group is piling into him, squishing him against his chair as they try their best to cheer him, a complete stranger, up. It’s this that finally makes the tears spill over, and he doesn’t have it in himself to feel embarrassed. “There are a number of circumstances that could have forced your friend to join the New Wave.”

“Yeah, maybe they kidnapped him and are forcing him to do their bidding,” Chenle says, and Mark hears a slap sound before he exclaims, “ow! What did I do?”

“You think they’d do that?” Mark whispers, finally pulling his hands away from his face. 

“The New Wave are extremists,” Jeno explains, giving him a sympathetic smile as they all returned to their seats. Mark isn’t hungry, but he still tries his best to shovel food into his mouth. It’s the least he can do after Jaemin went through all that effort to cook for him. “They’d do anything to achieve their goals. It seems like your friend… Johnny? He seems really strong, they’re probably using him for his powers.”

“He is.” Mark takes a deep, shuddering breath. “He’s really strong.”

Mark thinks about how Johnny would have felt, after he watched Mark get struck by lightning. He imagines the pain Johnny was in, and wonders if the New Wave took advantage of that. He curls his hands into fists and vows to wipe them out. 

“We’ll help you get to him,” Donghyuck says gently, “but for now you need to eat, rest, and recover.”

“I will, thank you.” Wiping at his eyes, Mark returns to his food with a newfound strength. As much as it hurts, he can’t let this drag him down. 

He needs to save Johnny. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! let me know your thoughts in the comments below, or send me a message on curious cat!  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/jaemarking)  
> [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/jaemarked)


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